


The lies we tell ourselves

by makesometime



Series: A Wilde Week 2020 [7]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Caretaking, Denial of Feelings, Japan Arc (Rusty Quill Gaming), M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: The thing about the truth is that it can hurt as much as thrill, ache as much as soothe.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: A Wilde Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016722
Comments: 20
Kudos: 68
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	The lies we tell ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> _Day 7 - “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”_   
>  **Truth | Lies | Omissions**
> 
> And there we have it! I can't believe this fabulous week is already over...

The thing about the truth is that it can hurt as much as thrill, ache as much as soothe.

He can watch the world fall down around them, friends turned to enemies, the familiar becoming a threat. He can travel halfway across the world and build a team of trusted companions and risk losing them every single day. He can wonder and wonder and wonder for nearly two years if he’ll ever see Sasha or Grizzop or Hamid or Azu again...

But he can’t risk opening his heart to the dwarf that he refuses to admit already owns it.

He’s coolly detached as he watches the group go into quarantine after Shoin’s, Zolf’s chastisement still echoing around in his head. Once the door is locked he wants nothing more than to sit up against it and strain his ears to catch the sound of familiar voices ( ~~the sound of his voice~~ ). He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

But he doesn’t. The time passes. Of course it does.

It matters little that they’re out of quarantine within a few days and that Zolf is closer than he has been in weeks. Because if he lets himself hope…

“Oi.”

He looks up from his work with a startle, lost in his own head in a way that he’s not been in months. Will he even be able to escape it ever again, if Zolf shows signs of the veins? Will he even—.

“Gods, man.” Zolf says, walking closer and setting the tray of food in his hands down on the desk. “What’s gotten into you?”

He tries for a smirk. “Nothing in entirely too l—.”

“Oscar.”

That shuts him up. He’s not sure if it’s his name or Zolf’s tone or the look on Zolf’s face but he clamps his lips shut and fights a flush of indignant shame.

“I’m sorry.”

Zolf huffs. “Nothing to be sorry about.” He pauses, looking at the food and then back to Oscar. “You worry me, y’know?”

Oscar tries to smile, but it trembles its way off his face all too quickly. “Snap.”

He hates to make Zolf upset, it feels like the worst sort of contest to have won. He watches Zolf move in closer, fights the instinctive urge to protect himself and flinch away from a possible infection source but… he’s tired. He’s so tired.

Zolf’s hand comes up to cup his unmarked cheek and he leans into it with a sigh, finding his malaise fading away with each moment of warmth, of human contact. Zolf’s thumb strokes over his lips and he purses them for the barest of moments, staring at the way it makes Zolf’s mouth twist in response.

“If you wanted…” Zolf says quietly, frowning and shaking his head. “The others are busy and you need to sleep. My room or yours?”

Oscar grins, more out of relief than of any sort of attempt at charm, but it fades just as quickly as the others. He could try and dredge up some of his former self, but it’s wasted on Zolf and serves more to annoy than endear.

“Your bed is softer.” He murmurs.

Zolf chuckles, dropping his hand and catching up one of Oscar’s in a smooth move. “No it is _not_. But whatever you gotta tell yourself to justify it.”

Whatever he has to tell himself, and whatever he cannot tell Zolf.

_I love you._

_I’m sorry._

_Don’t leave me_.

“You know how it is.” He says, squeezing Zolf’s hand just a little tighter. “I can’t allow myself to admit how much I want you to hold me, Zolf. Terribly bad for one’s image.”

Zolf’s eyes roll heavenwards, tugging on the captive length of his arm until he’s on his feet. “Come on, you soft thing. Can’t trust you to sleep when I’m not here, I can at least make you sleep when I am.”

“The food…” He says as Zolf guides him around the desk, looking back at the tray with a surprising amount of longing.

Zolf pauses. “Will you eat it?”

It's all he can do to nod, watching as Zolf plucks the tray back up and continues on his way like nothing has happened to interrupt.

He could get used to this. To being cared for by Zolf Smith.

It's possible he already has, not that he'll admit it.

What's one more lie to himself, on top of everything else?


End file.
